


Fingertips

by L122ytorch



Category: The Blacklist (TV)
Genre: F/M, First Kiss, Slow Build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2018-01-07
Packaged: 2019-01-21 19:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12464016
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/L122ytorch/pseuds/L122ytorch
Summary: Red watches Liz sleep until she is no longer asleep.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No time to proof...please forgive any mistakes, grammatical or otherwise. 
> 
> Also, this is in a world where Liz and Red have known each other for a few years, Tom isn't an issue, Liz's kid doesn't exist and ERRRYBODYY knows Red is NOT Liz's father. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!

The steady rise and fall of breath moving in and out of a sleeping chest. She was peaceful, relaxed, the muscles of her face not drawn in consternation or warped by emotion. He’d seen her sleep before, but this was different, unguarded. 

Papers were draped over her chest and what wasn’t riding the rise and fall of her lungs was scattered along the coffee table. He’d been gone for two hours, and in that time it appeared she unpacked all three files, trying to get a step ahead. She was the best profiler he’d ever met. But he’d sooner die than admit to her how disconcerting it was how easily she could climb inside other people’s minds. Could she climb inside of his?

Ice shifted and groaned against the bay windows and it had snowed so much that it was gathered in the corners, nestled up to the glass. The days were short, too short. It was only five o’clock when the somber gray clouds were obscured by darkness. 

He hated winter, so it was fitting that it was her favorite season.

She shifted, the papers rustling, slipping to the floor, and the fire crackled so loudly that he nearly missed her ghosted sigh. It was inevitable…staring at her…the way the flames would illuminate one part of her face and then travel to another, casting shadows in the hollow of her cheek or the crease in her lips. 

She had headphones wedged into her ears and he momentarily feared for her hearing since he could hear the steady thrum of music from across the room. He sighed. Move. Do something. Go to bed. His advice to himself was good, but he didn’t budge; instead opting to let the snow that clung to him melt and slip to the floor. But he couldn’t remain immobile forever.

He slipped off the heavy bag slung over his shoulder and removed his coat, tossing it rather uncharacteristically over the sofa that paralleled hers. Next he toed off his boots, not caring that the ice and snowflakes slipped through his socks and froze his toes. 

Despite the fire and a table side lamp, the room was dark, a result of being clad in mahogany and dark finishes. The fireplace was elegantly carved, the floor meticulously tiled in an ornate pattern. It was masculine and warm, the kind of place Red could easily call home. Well, for this weekend it was.

He walked towards her, considering his options. Wondering if he ought to wake her and guide her to the guest bedroom. No, he couldn’t wake her. He didn’t have the heart to wake her, especially after replaying the day in his mind. It was fresh in his memory, the way her lips were drawn in a tight frown, hurt and disappointment warring for dominance in her eyes, her words carefully weighed and considered before spoken, tinged with resignation.

He let her down. He always let her down. Hiding behind walls built with concrete lies and secrets while she was transparent. It wasn’t fair, and he knew it. But what could he do? Divulge his secrets, lay bare his crimes, reveal himself for the monster he is? It would cost him Liz, and very possibly his sanity.

No, for now Red would lay a blanket over Liz and pretend he was the kind of man who owned a conscious that would allow him to sleep. 

It was a delicate effort, to cross the room silently, to move like a shadow. He seemed to draw the chill of the window with him, dragging darkness towards her flickering light. He scooped up the fallen papers and let them drift to sit with the other papers on the coffee table. It was unfathomable not to stare down at her, the way her brown hair cascaded around her face, an errant strand falling on her face. God, he wanted to brush it away, tuck it behind her ear. 

Instead, he looked to his right to visually locate the heavy maroon blanket folded over the back of the sofa. Before he could reach for it, contact shocked his system. Elizabeth was awake, loosely wrapping her fingers around the back of Red’s wrist, bringing the pulsing flesh to her face. All he could do was watch…watch as she breathed him in, memorizing his cologne, thumbing over his heartbeat. 

A tentative kiss was placed on the pulse point, growing bolder as her tongue began to trace the veins that snaked upwards. 

“Lizzie,” her name came out like a warning and a plea all at once.

She didn’t heed it, but rather traced his arm with her fingers, exploring the corded muscle beneath warm flesh. And then it wasn’t enough, she needed to discover more. 

He gave permission the same way he lied…through omission, a lack of protest that mirrored a lack of honesty. Stunned to frozen immobility as her hands molded to his side, to his stomach, desperate for the fine fabric of his plum button-down to disappear. 

She looked at him as if he was the answer to every question she’d ever had. Like he was both her tormenter and savior, and he was.

A hot hand untucked his shirt and breached the barrier of both the button-down and the undershirt. He stiffened in horror as her fingertips found the mottled flesh of his scarred back, but she didn’t react, just kept blindly searching with the pads of her fingers. Her head came closer. She remained on the couch with him standing over her, her face now pressed to his hip. 

If he had thought prior to this that he knew what torture was, he was just now realizing he hadn’t the faintest grasp of the concept.

This was torture. Seeing her devotion, her loyalty, her love laid bare in a raw need that was being screamed through the whisper of a touch. 

Liz’s palms were now exploring his chest, undoing buttons and grasping at the fabric in an attempt to bring him to his knees, and it worked. His body dropped to her level and the hands on his chest travelled to his neck where she reburied her face. Beneath the tip of her nose she could feel the rapidly increasing heartbeat of the man, who even now, controlled his reactions - but his defense system was crumbling.

She stroked his jaw, down the muscles of his neck, breathed in the spicy musky sweet scent that lingered in the crook of his neck. Littering the expanse of skin she found with licks and kisses so achingly sweet it made him want to cry. 

His breaths turned shaky as she traced his face with those same flame-licked fingertips that seemed to leave fire in their wake. His eyes were closed, lips rattling with shaky breaths. The touch started at his eyebrows, tracing the curve of the bone above his hazel eye as it dipped down and strengthened  
to form his cheekbone. The same cheeks that shifted when he smiled, carrying the upturn of his lip towards the spark in his eyes. The same cheeks that were kissed by the cold breeze, tinging them a beautiful pink. 

Then the finger was gone, descending the slope of his nose that dipped into the crease above his lips. The bowstring blush pink lips that deliver sonnets, wrap around a wine glass, curl into a knee-melting smile that could de-thaw the ice caps. 

Red’s lips parted as she brought the exploring digit to trace their shape, slicking it with saliva that his hot breath rushed over in jagged clips. Liz thumbed the bottom lip, down the center, towards his chin, pulling him closer…closer…until the intangible became tangible and those same lips brushed against hers. 

Years of want, need, lust, yearning, admiration, melting together in the most languid and passionate of kisses. 

She could never say it, the words refused to leave the cage of her mouth, “I love you,” was never whispered aloud, but it lived in that kiss. It vibrated along her touch and simmered where their tongues met. 

She didn’t know him…but she knew him…and it was enough, enough to love him. Enough to need him. Enough to dread his absence in her waking life and intoxicate her sleeping life. And despite all of his control, he was shaking. He shook beneath the weight of her worship.

Breathing finally became a necessity, forcing them apart. He stared, wide eyed, pupils so big that only a sliver of color remained around the black. She was tugging him, his brain wasn’t functioning properly. There should be words, or logic or something, but all that filled the space was the electric charge between them that carried with it things Raymond had avoided all his life - hope, promise, love.

Liz moved. His back was lying on the seat cushions of the couch and he could only continue to watch as she did what she’d always done best: surprise him. 

Her face was at his hip again, but this time those skilled hands rested on the opposite hip. She nuzzled his erection and he fought to remain still. There was no crazed rush, no thoughtless actions, everything was deliberate, each breath, each caress. The drag of the zipper echoed loudly in the quiet room and where Red expected to find panic reverberating in his mind, all he discovered was acceptance. Like this may have happened on a different day, at a different time or in a different place - but it was always destined to happen.

His hips lifted of their own accord as she slid them off his legs, running those maddening measured caresses up his legs, returning to breathe heat on his tented silk boxers. 

He wanted to touch, to explore her, to give her pleasure, but it was apparent that this is what she wanted. This was bringing her pleasure, and that realization set off an entirely different rush of fresh arousal. 

His hands were large, calloused, rough. They had both held life, granted it’s continuation, and snuffed it out. Fingers that pulled triggers brushed her face, reveled in the feather-like softness of chestnut brown hair. 

A tongue traced his cock through the silk, hot breath accompanying the pressure, touches massaging his hips. Liz licked and kissed until the front of his boxers were wet, clinging to the outline of his hard flesh. 

He was keening, groaning, eager to both reach his completion and yet make this last forever. Finally, she pulled his boxers off and stroked him with the flat of her tongue. Nails dug into his thighs as she lapped invisible designs on his balls before gently sucking them into her wet mouth one at a time. He groaned approval, his cock jumping as she licked at the seam between them. 

Getting Red to writhe was definitely her new favorite pastime. She catalogued every muscle twitch, every wordless sound. Liz was aware that she was teasing him to sanity’s edge, but she couldn’t help it. Yet to take him fully into her mouth, she kissed up his length and licked the precum off his head before pressing her tongue into the little slit for more.

His fists were balled at his sides now, knuckles ghost white in the dim glare of the rolling fire. “Lizzz,” he growled, a pained pleasured expression contorting his features. She smiled against his skin and rolled his balls in her hand as she sunk her mouth down over him. It took every ounce of self restraint he possessed not to move, not to thrust into the scalding heat of her mouth. 

He was vibrating, slightly shaking from the effort, sweat rolling down his temple as Liz moved up and down, pausing to lavish extra attention to the underside of his head. 

His blood felt like it was slowly being replaced with air, fingers tingling, heart flying wildly, the room seemed to shift as she took all of him in. Which was no small feat. He hit the back of her throat and she swallowed around him. Deft fingers kneaded his ass, raked over his hips, rolled his balls, ghosted over his asshole. She spoke his name around his cock, the letters disseminating into nothing more than a humming vibration that undid him. 

He didn’t warn her, he didn’t need to, she knew, and she drank him down. Pulling up she savored the taste of him on her tastebuds and flicked her tongue out to catch some errant cum that was trying to escape the corner of her mouth.

She crawled up his body, grabbing the blanket along the way and nestled into his side as if that was where she had always belonged. His arms wrapped around her, hands fastening tight to make sure this wasn’t a dream or a hallucination. Her head came to rest over his heart, listening to breath rush in and out, evening out, becoming steady beneath the thud of a consistent beat. 

“Goodnight Red.”

“Goodnight Liz.”


	2. Chapter 2

The first conscious thought Liz had was that she was cold. Half asleep, she grabbed for the blanket and pulled it tighter to her. Life in technicolor HD was yanking at the edges of Liz's mind and she fought it, but the moment she remembered last night, reality slammed into her with a cold splash.

She twisted her body and realized that she was alone on the sofa. Sitting upright, she squinted against the bright morning sunlight and scanned for Red. As if her thoughts had summoned him, he came breezing into the room with two bags hoisted up by his shoulders. 

"I'm afraid that I didn't have time to make breakfast Lizzie. I hated to wake you, so I'm glad to see that you're awake."

She studied the older man as he spoke while setting the bags down, unzipping them to make sure that Dembe had packed everything they'd need. He smiled at her, but rather than the rare genuine smiles that bloomed across his face with radiance and warmth, she received a tight, appreciative but cool smile. 

It was almost audible, the sound of her world crumbling around around her. The crash of realization hit her at a hundred miles an hour. 

Dreading this moment throughout his entire sleepless night, Red caught the very second that she realized he was backing away. And in that moment, he saw her features shift through a variety of emotions that started with lazy happiness and hopefulness before morphing to stunned realization followed by rejection and disappointment and finally coming to a stop at shut down indifference. 

When they'd first met several years ago, Lizzie was terrible at not showing her emotions. But at some point along their journey she had mastered the art of concealing her inner thoughts. She no longer let her feelings project from her soul to the big drive through movie screen of her face. That light bulb projector must've broken down somewhere along the line, but Red still saw the myriad of unbidden emotion play across her countenance.

It broke his heart. He had to address what they'd done, it was damage control of the highest import. But how could he start? What could he say? Wasn't dodging danger a higher priority? Or was living simply not worth it if he let his momentary lapse of judgement shatter the person he cared most for.

"Lizzie..."

"Don't," she said sharply, catching him off guard. "I know what's coming next, and you can save it." Bitterness was the strongest vein running through her words, but beneath the harshness was crushing devastation. "You clearly think it was a mistake, and that's all I need to know," she whipped herself up from the couch and straightened her clothes before tying up her hair and moving to fold the blanket. 

Red's mouth was dry, his heart beat dizzyingly fast in his chest and he thought it best to leave well enough alone. 

The morning proved to be a blurry slow motion horror flick for Liz. She followed Red numbly out of their most recent safe house and slid into the sleek black car when he held the door open for her. 

A six hour drive, that's what he said. Part of her wanted to die right there. How could she be so stupid? For the first two and a half hours they sat in silence as she mentally chastised herself. What gave her the nerve to finally act on her feelings for her protector? What made her think that he returned those sentiments? Arms folded, she glanced at him sideways. His hands were firmly on the steering wheel, eyes trained on the road ahead, lips drawn together in a tight frown.

"Do you need to stop? We could grab something to eat," he said suddenly, aware of her heavy gaze. "No..." she returned her focus to the scenes dancing in front of the windshield. "I ate a protein bar, I'm fine." 

The silence resumed. 

It made her soul clench to think that at this moment in time, he was the longest relationship she'd ever experienced. Physical or not, he was a presence in her life that she couldn't imagine doing without. She knew he'd never abandon her, no matter what failed sexual advances she made. If he did...if he ever deigned of vanishing out of her life...it would crush her. He may walk away unscathed, but it would tear her asunder. He was her "person" whether he wanted to be or not. And living without him would simply not be an option. 

With a huff of a laugh she imagined what he might say at her funeral. She never imagined living a particularly long life, so it wasn't too far fetched a concept. 

"Something funny?" his face lightened a bit. 

She looked over at him again, this time with a smile threatening to twist from the edges of her lips. She loved him....she loved him regardless of whether or not he loved her back. She loved him regardless of the fact that he would never be hers. She would die for him. 

"I was just thinking of a funny memory," she lied. 

He hummed and nodded, satisfied with the lie.

The pain of unreturned affection was something she was used to, but never quite on this level. It made her want to drink an entire bottle of Jack, crawl inside said bottle and then cry until she drowned. But since alcohol wasn't a handy option, she chose sleep instead. 

"I'm gonna..." she yawned, "...take a nap Red." 

He smiled over at her. "Sweet dreams Lizzie."

She tried to hide the shiver that went sliding down her spine hearing her name from his lips, poorly masking it in a stretch before closing her eyes. 

The next time she opened her eyes, they were at their new location. 

Living on the run was growing tiresome, but at least they were both alive. They had food, water, shelter, encrypted laptops, some clothes and plenty of weapons. One of Red's associates and one of his former criminal connections had teamed up to take down a threat that plagued both Red and Lizzie. All they could do was lie in wait. Either Red's hodge-podge team would fail and they'd have to regroup or face a stand-off...or...the duo would succeed and they'd be free to return to their normal lives.

Okay, now that made Liz break out in laughter. "Normal" lives? Wow. Her chuckling carried her from the car into the new safe-house where the sound reverberated off the entryway stairwell. Red simply looked at her puzzled. "You're doing a great job of entertaining yourself today Liz," he moved from her side to walk into the country house. 

"I'm incredibly skilled at self entertainment," she grinned wolfishly, relishing in the drain of color from Red's face. She found her way to her temporary room while Red staked out the perimeter. He went to an Amish grocery for some fresh food, something they hadn't enjoyed in two weeks, and by the time he was done his errands, it was nearly dark. 

They found their groove, if only for a moment, over the steaming pan of fried rice and sliced up veggies and pork. It was easy to argue about what was the best cinematic masterpiece of the 20th century. She drank the wine as he made the meal and for a few precious moments, it was as if yesterday never happened. But like a lake frozen over, beneath their lighthearted discussion was an undercurrent fraught with spring loaded tension and unspoken truths. 

The frustration boiling in the pit of Liz's stomach was only made worse when Red smiled, when his skilled fingers dished her food and poured her more wine, when his pink lips parted to devour food that elicited tiny noises of appreciation from his throat. 

They could "go back" to the way things were, Liz was sure that's what Red had convinced himself. But beneath the mask she was cracking. Wondering why she wasn't good enough, or older, or smarter or prettier...

In a beat of silence he felt her internal struggle surface. He chose that moment to rid off the table, gathering the empty plates and glasses and carry them to the sink. Pushing his crisp white sleeves up, he turned on the water and began to clean.

She remained at the table, watching the play of muscles move beneath his shirt. Her mind suddenly flooded with fantasies. His weight and heat in her mouth, the salty sweet way he tasted, the way he had kissed her back. In a moment of passion, he gave himself over. But it meant nothing. It meant nothing if beneath the bright light of day he couldn't stand up for those feelings and claim her. No...he regretted it, she could see it on his face, hear it in the words that never slipped past the gate of his pearly white teeth, feel it in the clench of his hands on that steering wheel.

Her body ached to slide up behind his as he worked at the sink, his ass against her flat stomach as she'd stroke down his chest. It was so easy to envision whispering in his ear, kissing at the flesh just above his collar, toying with his nipples until they turned to hard, responsive pebbles beneath her fingers. She'd groan into his neck and slip her hand down the front of his slacks.

Suddenly he whipped around, looking at her with attempted suppressed shock. 

Shit. She groaned out loud.

Standing suddenly, too suddenly, the red wine buzzing to her head, she rubbed nervously at her neck and told him she was turning in for the night. "Thanks for dinner," the words echoed down the hall as she retreated to her room and shut the door. 

Her frustration was building to a deafening crescendo. All day she had tried to fight the fantasies that clawed at the edges of her mind. His voice, his cologne, fuck...just seeing his name on the dossiers she'd looked over in the car had her wet. She could feel her arousal all. damn. day. 

Enough was enough. She lunged at her suitcase retrieving a small black pouch and made sure the door was securely locked.There was no doubt that she got immense enjoyment out of pleasuring Red yesterday but she had yet to experience her own release. 

Grabbing her laptop, she did something that she detested and pulled up porn. She was tired of thinking of Red. She wanted sex, pure, simple, uncomplicated. Unknown faces on unknown bodies, twisting with pleasure. She turned the black pouch upside down and out tumbled her favorite toy and a condom. 

It was sleek and black with a metal button and an invisible button save for the slight indentation. Unceremoniously, Liz stripped; flinging off her button down blouse and black slacks followed by her navy blue lace underwear, she peeled open the bed and dove in. 

She opened the condom, cursing that she was putting it on silicone instead of the real thing, but it made cleaning the toy easier and provided some extra lubrication...not that she needed that. Once she had idly considered sending Red a bill for new underwear. Either she'd rip them fantasizing about him or soak them out just thinking about him. He also owed her about 1,000 hours of sleep and a therapist. 

Forget about him, she scolded herself as she pulled up one of her favorite videos. Who would've thought? Elizabeth Keen, her porcelain body all spread out on crisp white sheets as her hungry eyes devoured the sight on the screen. It was an attractive woman, a brunette like Liz, with D-cup breasts bouncing as she sucked one man while another began to fuck her. 

It was her fantasy...being filled by more than one man...and it made her giggle. Red was so horrendously possessive, he'd sooner kill every man on earth than see Liz being shared. Maybe he'd share her with a woman? Hmmmmmm

That thought sent shivers rippling over Liz's goose-bumped skin. She groaned as she slid the condom onto the toy. Poor Red...he'd never get to experience Liz's skill of putting it on him with her mouth now that he'd rejected her. 

Liz made sure to keep the volume off. She wanted this fast so that she could get it out of her system, but as she slid the toy over her wet center she felt the sudden need to draw this out as long as possible. Without turning the toy on she rubbed it over her clit and through her slit, getting it thoroughly drenched before pressing it in. 

It had been forever since she was laid so the stretch was tight, but after a moment of burning breach, the discomfort melted into soul searing pleasure. And whenever she needed inspiration, she turned to the screen, watching as the first man came with a shudder inside of the woman, his cum dripping out of her core. Liz turned and groaned into the pillow, praying that Red would never hear her. 

Her movements went from languid concentration to loosely controlled chaos. The second man was in the woman now, he was squeezing the base of his cock and tugging at his balls to keep from coming. Every thrust pushed the first man's come in and out of her hole and the sight was driving Liz insane. Fuck..she wanted to be filled like that so bad. 

She'd heard rumors of Red's sexual prowess. Heard that he had been known to easily make it through two rounds. Maybe he could fill her twice. Gnnnnnn

Slipping, her finger found the button to turn the toy on. It wasn't something she needed or had intended to do, but the vibrations were addictive, singing against her g-spot in an alternating rhythms. Close, so close. She turned her face back into the pillow as her orgasm lifted her hips off the bed and shook her thighs. "Reeeeeddddd," she moaned into the pillow as her muscles clenched tightly against toy. 

Her nipples brushed against the bedding as her chest heaved to catch breath. Slippery fingers sought the invisible black button but instead of shutting the toy off, she sent it rotating through a whole host of different vibration patterns that had her arching off the bed for a second and then a third orgasm. Finally, with bottom lip bit firmly in her teeth, she dragged the toy from her core still vibrating and had to actually look at it to find the right button and shut it off.

The whole ordeal left her in a puddle of somewhat satisfied bliss and an uncontrolled fit of continued laughter. Holy shit, she couldn't even figure out her own toy, how sad is that? Typically Liz used it without vibration. Well...she was familiar with it now. She peeled the condom off it, wrapped it in tissue and collapsed on the bed naked. She slammed her laptop shut before the guilt and shame of her apparent porn addiction could come seeping in. 

She should pee, she should clean the toy, she should wash her hands. But her fingers smelled sweet and musky and so...like her...it was an intoxicating smell. She even licked one finger clean, enjoying the jaggedly bitter taste that she typically tasted on her lover's lips. 

With a contented sigh she lay there with a thin sheen of sweat shimmering over her body. She yawned and submitted to the idea of sleep, not even bothering to pull the blanket over her. She pictured Red's strong arms wrapped around her, imagined his breath tickling the fine hairs on her neck and the way his heart would steadily beat behind her. Red...

Why couldn't Red love her back? That was the last thought she had before drifting off.


End file.
